


Principal

by yeaka



Category: Hawaii Five-O (1968)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Dominance, Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M, Spanking, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 22:49:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2709545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve stumbles on a new distraction of Danno’s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Principal

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: My first Hawaii 5-O, though I’ve been a fan a long time.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Hawaii 5-O or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

So many cases result in late nights that Steve hardly notices anymore; it’s just another part of the job. He’s been staring at the blown up map of the coast for hours, getting nowhere, but that doesn’t mean it won’t come to him if he gives it just a few more. The sheets of the five victims are pinned up on the other board, no connection in sight, but there’s something about the silhouette of their jobs that looks so _suspicious_ , and as Steve paces back to his desk, he lifts his hand like he’ll go into a _suppose, just suppose_ any minute.

Danny’s at the desk, green suit jacket long gone. When Steve looks at him for answers, it’s just the same tired shrug: none of this case makes any sense. But a lot of them are like that before Steve breaks them. He leans his hip against the side of his desk, next to Danny, and Danny looks at him with those beautiful, big bright eyes and says, “Steve, it’s getting late. Maybe we should just try again tomorrow.” Steve lifts an eyebrow, and Danny has the sense to smile sheepishly. It’s done. The food’s already on its way and everything. He brings his hand down to give Danny a light swat on the side for punishment, but Danny’s just turned back to the desk to turn the manila folder on top around. 

So Steve’s hand hits Danny’s ass instead of hip, the side of his knuckles dragging down one cheek. It was meant to be a quick movement, light and unimportant, but Danny’s last-second change catches him and makes him stall, his hand already dropping to Danny’s thigh. Now against the desk, Danny’s entire body stiffens, his eyes going wide and his pink lips dropping open in a tiny, inescapable gasp. 

There’s a blush gathering on his cheeks a second later, and Steve’s breath hitches; he’s seen that look on Danny before. Steve opens his mouth to apologize, but all he gets out is, “Danno...”

Danny clears his throat, steels over his face and looks back down at the open folder on Steve’s desk. He spreads out the files in it like this is nothing and he’s already moved on, but Steve knows him well enough to catch the slight tremor in his fingers. Steve realizes belatedly that he hasn’t moved his hand. It’s now draped across Danny’s ass, and if he just bent his fingers slightly, he could curl them beneath Danny’s rear, slide between Danny’s thighs. He could squeeze and make Danny moan, pant and lean back into him—Danny’s always eager for office play, and Steve knows that all too well—but then he’d just want to bend Danny over his desk and take his partner right here, and Kono and Chin would get a rude awakening when they show back up with the usual Chinese takeout. 

He means to head back to the map, but Danny says suddenly, eyes focused down on the files, “I really think we should go home.”

Steve _stares_ at him, because it’s not like Danny to press an issue like that, turned away and over something so small. It takes him a second to realize just what Danny’s doing; he wants to get swatted again. 

Steve’s fingers are already curling into a fist in an effort to hold back. He knows it’s a bad idea, but his Danno’s so hard to resist like this, and this is something new they haven’t tired—not that he’d ever want to _hit_ Danny, but that was just a little smack, more of a spanking—and Danny’s reaction to the first, accidental pat rips through Steve’s mind like honey. He grunts, “Is that so?” And he lifts his hand slowly, giving time for Danny to move away. But Danny’s hands just curl around the edge of the desk, gripping it hard, while Steve rains down the first real blow, deliberate but light, across both cheeks. Danny’s reaction is instant; he gasps and drops his head, eyes scrunched closed while his mouth opens wide, back arching. His ass pushes back towards Steve’s fleeing hand, and Steve can’t help but hiss, “You like that, Danno?”

Danny breathes a quiet, “ _Steve._ ” It almost makes Steve shiver to hear. There’s a certain, special lilt to the way Danny says his name that always goes straight to his cock. His pants already feel tighter. So Steve lifts his hand and does it again, harder this time, catching right in the middle of Danny’s ass and loving the way Danny’s breath hitches. He’s always beautiful, but he’s best when he’s flushed and wanting. Steve hits him again, and in the interim, Danny licks his lips and murmurs, “I feel like a naughty child with a teacher that won’t let me leave detention.”

It fits their age difference, but Danny’s no child. Steve smacks him again, earns a grunt, and finds himself practically purring, “I can’t imagine you being naughty.” Well, maybe mischievous. Under someone else. He’s only ever good for Steve. He pushes his ass into Steve’s hand and tosses back his head, so Steve can stare at the elegant arch of his neck, the soft toss of his hair and the pretty way his parted lips seem to call to be filled. Steve’s not sure if it would break the spell to turn him around, or to grab a fistful of those dirty blond curls and yank him back—naughty boys don’t deserve kisses.

The more he smacks Danny’s ass, the more Steve finds himself getting into it. He leaves less and less time between, not really sure of a plan, how many they’ll do, maybe just until Danny grows sore and squirms and asks him to stop. In the meantime, he’s getting hard, and he winds up taking a step behind Danny, blocking him from sight of the closed door, and reaching one hand to clutch at his hip, hold it steady while the other hand punishes Danny for no real crime. In the back of his head, he knows they’ve got a mystery to solve, but they weren’t getting anywhere and they’ll only be a minute and Danny is _so_ tempting like this, so sweet and ripe and alluring. Another few hits and Steve can’t take it, he grabs at Danny’s belt, reaches around and fumbles with the clasp, his crotch pressing into Danny’s ass as he does—Danny whines and squirms against him. If they had the time, Steve would do so many things to him, take him right here, then against the wall, in his chair, up against the window—

With the belt open, Steve shoves Danny’s pants and underwear down his thighs, pats them to make Danny spread his legs wider, keep the fabric hooked right below the curve of his ass so they’ll be easy to pull back up. His creamy skin, pale around the edges, is now glowing pink, striped with foggy handprints, and Steve grabs a fistful of Danny’s flesh, one cheek in each palm, and kneads them while Danny leans back against him and moans. 

All part of the game, Steve growls next to Danny’s ear, “We’re finished the case when I say we’re finished. Understand?”

Danny nods his head shakily, licks those erotic lips and manages, “Whatever you say, chief.”

Steve loses it. He pushes Danny down by the lower back—his chest hits the desk, right overtop of the data of their case. His cheek turned against the wood, he looks up at Steve with lust-fogged eyes, hands sliding up the desk to clutch at the other ends, ass pressed out into Steve, and Steve grinds into it, feeling how warm and tender Danny is. He’ll probably be too sore to sit down for awhile, and maybe he’ll have to sleep on his side or his front, but Steve’ll be there to watch and that makes it seem worth it, and Danny’s moaning so beautifully and begs, “Spank me again, Steve, please—”

Only years of intensive army training and police use let the muffled sound of an opening door slice into Steve’s head. There’s a murmur of voices in the otherwise-sleeping building, and Steve jerks back to life. He hurriedly pulls Danny’s pants back up, grabs Danny’s arm to bring him to his feet, and Danny sways there, confused but complying, hands finishing the work on his belt that Steve started when the doorknob to Steve’s office twists. Danny’s still flushed and panting and utterly irresistible, but his clothes are on when the door opens, and Steve’s were never off. He’s better at this, looking collected and cool when really he’s starving for his partner, and the only thing that could give him away is the tent in his pants. He’s already walking around his desk when Kono and Chin bustle in, arguing over menu items. Danny keeps his hips angled out of sight and struggles to look unaffected. 

Kono doesn’t even notice, of course. He flops down in the chair by the door and starts fishing in his bags, while Chin takes Steve and Danny their share, his eyes alight with a hint of knowledge, but he kindly says nothing. While Steve takes out the biggest white carton, muttering his thanks, Kono asks around a mouthful of noodles, “Any luck on the case, boss?”

Steve says, “We didn’t get lucky,” before he can stop himself. Then it’s a struggle not to laugh, especially because it isn’t funny. Danny’s got a half cringing, half amused smile, and Steve gives him that _we’ll finish this later_ look that makes him nod and turn away. 

Then it’s back to the marked map, trying to sort out the local crime spree instead of the interesting new developments in the ongoing case of Danny Williams, cute cop and perfect boyfriend extraordinaire.


End file.
